What Has Been Said in the Preceding Chapter, Confirmed by Examples

SIMON METAPHRASTES in his Life of St. John the Almoner, Archbishop of Alexandria, relates how a rich man had a son whom he loved very much, and to obtain of God the preservation of his life and health he asked the saint to pray for him, and gave him a great quantity of gold to distribute in alms to the poor for that intention. The saint did so, and at the end of thirty days the son died. The father was smitten with great grief, thinking that the prayer and alms that had been offered for him had gone for nothing. The patriarch, knowing his sadness, offered prayer for him, asking God to console him. God heard his prayer and sent one night a holy angel from heaven, who appeared to the man and told him that he should know that the prayer made for his son had been heard by God;

and that his son was alive and well in heaven and that his death at that time was the right thing for him in view of his salvation; for, if he had lived, he would have turned out badly and made himself unworthy of the glory of God. He said further that he should know that none of the things that happen to us in this life happen otherwise than by the just judgment of God, although the grounds of His judgments are hidden from men; and that man therefore should not give way to excessive sadness, but receive with patient and grateful mind the things that God ordains. With this warning from heaven the father of the deceased boy remained comforted and animated to serve God.

In the history of the Theban Legion there is recounted a singular favor which St. Maurice, captain of that legion, did to a lady very devout to him. She had an only son whom, to the end that he might progress betimes in religious ways, she consecrated, as soon as he was out of his tender age, in the Monastery of St. Maurice, under the care and government of the monks, as was the custom of those times, and as the fathers of Maurus, Placidus, and other noble Romans did with their children in the time of St. Benedict; and, many years later, St. Thomas Aquinas’ mother, Theodora, and his brothers, counts of Aquino, did the like with him in the Monastery of Monte Cassino. In the monastery, this only son grew in letters and good customs and monastic discipline right well and in choir with the monks he had begun to sing very sweetly. But a little fever came upon him, whereof he died. The disconsolate mother came to the church and with infinite tears accompanied the dead body to the tomb. But many tears did not suffice to allay the mother’s grief nor to make her cease going every day to the grave, there to weep, without measure; and much more at the time when the divine office was said, did she remember how she was deprived of hearing the voice of her son. The lady persevered in this sad exercise, not only in the daytime in the church, but at nights as well in her house, without being able to rest. One time, overcome by weariness, she fell asleep; and in her sleep there appeared to her the holy Captain Maurice, and said: “Woman, why art thou continually weeping over the death of thy son, without being able to put a stop to such a flood of tears?” She answered: “I cannot stop this lamentation all the days of my life; and therefore, as long as I live, I shall always bewail my only son, nor shall my eyes cease to shed tears till death close them and my disconsolate soul leave this body.” The saint replied: “I tell thee, woman, not to afflict thyself, nor weep over thy dead son any more as though he were dead, since he is not dead but alive, and is rejoicing with us in everlasting life. As a sign of the truth that I tell thee, rise in the morning for matins, and thou shalt hear the voice of thy son among the voices of the monks, singing the divine office; and not only tomorrow shalt thou have that joy, but every time thou art present at the canonical hours in the church. Cease, then, and put an end to thy tears, since thou hast more occasion for great rejoicing than for sadness.” The woman arose, and waited with longing desire for the hour of matins to assure herself of the truth, having still in her mind the while some doubt of its being alla dream. The hour came; and, entering the church, the mother recognized at the intoning of the antiphon the most sweet voice of her blessed son, secure now of his glory in heaven. Throwing off all grief, she gave infinite thanks to God. Every day she had the joy of hearing that voice in the divine office of that church. So did God comfort her on this occasion and bestow on her this rich favor.

An author relates how one day a knight was out hunting, and there came out a wild animal which he chased by himself, without a servant, his company being taken up with killing other game. He followed the chase with great eagerness far apart till he came to a thicket, whence he heard a human voice of ravishing sweetness. He wondered at hearing such a voice in a lonely place, because he thought it could not be any of his servants nor any of the people of that countryside. Desiring to look into the matter, he went into the thicket and found there a leper, hideous to behold and exceedingly filthy, whose flesh was in such a state that it was falling to pieces in every limb and part of his body. At such a sight the knight was greatly amazed and horrified; but, plucking up his courage, he went up to him, saluted him in kind words, and asked if it was he that was singing, and from him that that sweet voice came forth. The leper answered: “Yes, sir, it was I that was singing, and that is my own voice.” “How could you be glad,” asked the knight, “in the midst of such sufferings?’ The poor man answered: “Between God my Lord and me there is no other barrier but this wall of clay, which is my body; when that obstacle is broken through and removed, I shall go to enjoy the vision of His eternal majesty; and as I see it every day falling to pieces, I rejoice and sing with inward gladness of my heart, waiting as I do wait for my departure from this body; for till I leave it I cannot go to the enjoyment of my God, the living fountain, where are found the streams of bliss that flow forever.”

St. Cyprian tells of a bishop who was very ill of a grave sickness and reduced to the last extremity, very worried and anxious about death, that was close upon him. He entreated our Lord to prolong his life. Then there appeared to him an angel in the form of a very beautiful and shining youth, who said to him in a grave and severe voice: “On the one hand thou shrinkest from suffering in this life, and on the other, thou hast no mind to go out of it. What wouldst thou have me do with thee?”—giving him to understand that his unwillingness to depart this life was not pleasing to God. The saint declares that the angel said these words to him that in his agony he might tell them and repeat them to others.

Simon Metaphrastes, as quoted by Surius, relates of the holy Abbot Theodosius that, knowing how profitable is the remembrance of death, he sought to give occasion thereof to his disciples for their improvement. Wherefore he had a grave dug, and when it was open, he placed himself with them around it and said: “There is the grave open; for which of you shall we first celebrate the funeral obsequies We. One of his disciples, named Basil, who was a priest, a man of great virtue and so quite disposed and prepared to choose death very gladly, took up the word. Kneeling down, he said: “Bless me, father, for I shall be the first for whom you will have to celebrate the office of requiem.” The holy abbot ordered that in his lifetime there should be celebrated for him all the offices that usually are celebrated for the dead, the first day, the third, the ninth, and lastly other funeral honors on the fortieth day. Wonderful to relate, at the end of the office of the fortieth day the monk Basil, being sound and well, without fever or headache or any other malady, like one who falls into a sweet sleep, passed to the Lord to receive the reward of his virtue and of the promptitude and joy wherewith he had desired to be with Christ. Another miracle followed. For during the space of forty days after his death the Abbot Theodosius saw him coming every day to vespers and singing in choir with the rest of the community. Of the rest, none saw him nor heard him sing but one only, a monk of signal virtue, named Aetius, who did hear him sing, but did not see him. He went to Abbot Theodosius and said to him: “Father, don’t you hear our brother Basil singing with us?” The abbot answered: “I hear him and see him and will get you to see him as well.” They being another day together at office in choir, the abbot saw the holy monk Basil singing in choir with the rest as usual, and pointed him out with his finger to Aetius, praying God at the same time to open his eyes that he might see him. When Aetius saw and recognized him, he went straight running up to embrace him, but could not grasp him, and the vision disappeared at once, saying in a voice that all heard: “Good-bye, my fathers and brothers, good-bye; for henceforth you shall see me no more.”

In the chronicles of the order of St. Augustine it is related of St. Columbanus the Younger, cousin and disciple of the holy Abbot Columbanus, that, being in a high fever and near to death and full of a great hope to die, there appeared to him a shining youth and said to him: “Thine abbot’s prayers and tears for thy recovery prevent thy going out of this life.” Whereupon the saint made loving complaint to his abbot and said to him weeping: “Why do you force me to live so sad a life as this and hinder my entrance into life everlasting?” Then the abbot ceased to weep and pray for him; and so, assembling the religious and receiving the holy sacraments and embracing them all, he died in the Lord.

St. Ambrose relates of the people of Thrace that when men were born they wept, and when they died they made a great feast. They wept at births and made high festival on the day of a death, reckoning very reasonably, as he says, that people coming into this wretched world, replete with so many woes, deserved to be wept over; and when they quitted this place of exile, it was a rational thing to keep feasts and rejoicings for their deliverance from so many miseries. Now if they did so, being gentiles and pagans and having no knowledge of the glory that we hope for, what will it be reasonable for us to feel and do, we who are enlightened by the light of faith and know the good things that they go to enjoy who die in the Lord? So with much more reason does the Wise Man say: Better is the day of death than the day of birth (Eccles. vii. 2). St. Jerome says that for this reason Christ our Redeemer, being about to depart from this world to His Father, said to His disciples, who were sad thereat: If ye loved me, ye would indeed rejoice, because I go to the Father (John xiv. 28).

And, contrariwise, when He determined to raise Lazarus, He wept (John xi. 35). He did not weep, says St. Jerome, because he was dead, seeing that He was about immediately to raise him up, but He wept because he had to return to this miserable life; He wept because one whom He had loved and still loved so much had to return to the afflictions of this exile.